


Spring Fever

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-06
Updated: 2009-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Ron and Neville have very different ideas of what constitutes a holiday.





	Spring Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Ficlet written for Hardticket using the prompts 'spring fever' and 'holiday'.

Ron rolled over so his back faced the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains, automatically reaching for Neville’s side of the bed, mind filled with the half-formed thought of rubbing his morning erection between Neville’s thighs. His eyes opened when his hand encountered empty space instead of Neville’s solid warmth, and he groaned. Sleepy morning sex was hard to get when the person you wanted to have sex with had a habit of waking long before you did.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” Neville said, entering the bedroom fully dressed, hair still damp from his shower. “Breakfast is on the table, and then we can get to work.”

“Work?” Ron asked muzzily. “ _We_?”

“The vegetable and herb gardens aren’t going to plant themselves,” Neville said cheerfully. “Come on, out of bed. We’ve work to do.”

Ron pulled a pillow over his head. “I thought this was supposed to be a holiday,” he complained, voice muffled. “Lazy lie-ins, takeaway for dinner every night, doing absolutely nothing remotely resembling work. You know, holidays?”

“Maybe that’s the ideal holiday for you, but for me it means spending the day out in the sun, enjoying the weather. It’s spring, Ron! Sap’s rising, and all that.” Neville’s voice lowered. “And so am I. I’ll just bring breakfast outside, okay?”

There was no arguing with that sort of logic, nor missing the promise in Neville’s tone. Ron grumbled and got out of bed, following Neville down the stairs and outside.

Two hours later, naked and sated in fresh-turned garden soil, Ron had to admit there was something to be said for gardening as a remedy for spring fever.


End file.
